PENANCE
by SupernaturallyEgocentric
Summary: This is a new drabble series. Lots of drama, pain and misunderstandings between Sam and Dean. If you're looking for brotherly schmoop to relieve the stress of the tension on the show, this ain't it. Will be posting one chapter of three drabbles daily. 300 words daily. Angst ahoy!
1. Chapter 1

Sam sat on the bed, waiting.

When Dean came out of the bathroom, he didn't look at Sam. He dressed quickly, pulled on his jacket and left.

Sam didn't ask where he was going. Dean didn't volunteer the information.

When Dean came home just before dawn, smelling of smoke, beer and perfume, Sam was lying in bed, wide awake.

Dean ignored him. He went into the bathroom and relieved himself, then came back out and fell into bed, instantly asleep.

Watching his brother sleep, Sam accepted that it wouldn't happen tonight.

He sighed and settled in to wait for morning.

SUPNSUPNSUPN

Sam managed a couple of hours sleep.

He woke well before Dean, showered, then went out to pick up breakfast.

Dean was waiting when he got back. When Sam set a cup of coffee and a single take-out container on the table, he snapped, "Didn't get _me_ anything?"

"This is for you," Sam said quietly. "I already ate."

"Next time wake me. I might've wanted to go out."

Nodding silently, Sam sat at the table and opened his laptop.

Grumbling, Dean dropped into the seat opposite and opened his breakfast. Pancakes, sausage, eggs. Even hash browns. "Thanks," he said grudgingly.

SUPNSUPNSUPN

Dean flicked a couple of assessing glances at his brother as he ate. Sam felt the weight of those glances. He kept his eyes on the laptop.

"Bobby called last night," Dean said after breakfast. "Got a hunt in Titusville. Looks like the ghosts of a couple murdered vagrants are taking it out on the local townspeople."

Nodding, Sam went to Mapquest and got directions to Titusville. "It's a three-hour drive. You want to leave right away?"

"No reason to stick around here."

Sam closed the laptop and started packing up the room, hyper-aware of Dean's narrowed eyes following him.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks to everyone for welcoming my new drabble. Hope you all have fun with it.

To the Guest who asked if it was going to be one of those "put upon Sam and bad Dean" stories, well, I usually use John as my whipping boy, but you never know. Guess you'll have to wait and see. :)

OOOOOOOOOO

Dean didn't say much on the drive. When his brother did speak to him, Sam answered quickly, but offered no more than necessary. He knew that it was no longer his place.

They got to Titusville just after noon. Casing Main Street with an expert eye, Dean pulled into a diner. "Might as well get something to eat, talk up the waitress, see what she has to say about the haunted house."

Sam nodded and followed his brother into the diner.

The waitress was an older woman whose tired eyes nonetheless lit up at the sight of Dean's engaging grin.

SUPNSUPNSUPN

"What can I get for you?"

Dean looked at her name tag. "Well, Darlene, I'm just about to starve to death. How about a bacon cheeseburger? And some fries?"

"You got it." Darlene looked at Sam. "How about you?"

Sam fiddled nervously with the menu. He wasn't hungry but he didn't want to piss Dean off. Dean would read Sam not eating as Sam sulking.

"Um, could I have a small salad, please?"

"What kind of dressing?"

"Doesn't matter."

"That all?"

Sam nodded. "Where's the bathroom?"

Darlene pointed to the rear of the restaurant. "Right back there, hon."

SUPNSUPNSUPN

Washing his hands, Sam was careful not to look in the mirror. It was hard enough just living with the knowledge of what he'd done at St. Mary's Convent. Looking into his own eyes - he couldn't, not ever again.

Damn it, what was Dean waiting for? Why didn't he just get it over with?

He could do it himself. Was that what Dean was waiting for?

_No_. Dean wanted to do it. He'd said so. It was his responsibility, his _right_.

Reluctantly, Sam decided to wait. Just a little longer.


	3. Chapter 3

Yeah, two in one day. I'm off today and while there's a million other things that need doing, couldn't resist posting again. Thanks for all the great feedback. :)

SUPNSUPNSUPN

When Sam slid back into the booth, Dean was halfway through his meal. "Took you long enough," he observed.

"Sorry." Sam picked up his fork, stabbed at a chunk of tomato.

"Huh." Dean stuffed a few fries into his mouth. "Well, while you were on your little break, Darlene gave me the lowdown on the local spooks."

"What did she say?"

"Two homeless guys were beaten to death a year ago. Cops never made an arrest, but word is a few local bad boys had a habit of roughing up transients that come through; things must've gotten out of hand."

SUPNSUPNSUPN

"If it were them getting killed, I wouldn't give a crap," Dean said callously. "But it's not. Couple teenagers were found at the bottom of the basement stairs a couple of weeks ago, both their necks broken."

Sam put down his fork, feeling a little sick.

"Cops are calling it accidental," Dean went on. "Then, last weekend, a homeless guy went in and they found him dead, too. Same thing. Bottom of the basement stairs, broken neck."

"She say where the house is?"

Dean finished his food. "She did." He looked at Sam's plate in distaste. "You done yet?"

SUPNSUPNSUPN

Dean covertly watched his brother as they drove out to the old farmhouse. Something was up with the kid. Definitely up.

Demon blood, maybe?

Sure, Ruby was gone. Sure, Sam _said_ he didn't crave that poison anymore, but he could be lying. Dean's lip curled. Wouldn't be the first time.

He saw Sam glance at him and then quickly away. His hands twisted round each other, stilled.

Dean's big brother radar kicked into high gear. "You okay over there?"

Sam shrank in on himself. "I'm fine."

"You sure?" Dean huffed out an angry breath. "Damn it, if you're lying to me – "


	4. Chapter 4

Sam's eyes went to the side of the road as a house appeared out of the trees. "Is that it?"

Dean pulled into the driveway. "Yeah, this is it." He glared at Sam. "I know something's going on and you _will_ tell me what it is."

Confused, Sam stared back at his brother. "Dean, I'm not hiding – "

"Save it till later!" Dean snapped. "Let's just get this done." He jumped out of the Impala and went to the trunk, pulling out his shotgun and salt rounds.

Following, Sam caught the gun that Dean tossed at him.

"Move your ass!"

SUPNSUPNSUPN

Sam was hiding nothing. He'd told Dean everything; he had nothing left to hide. But he knew that Dean would never believe him. He couldn't. There were too many lies between them, too many betrayals.

The only thing left undone between them was how it would end.

Sam thought he understood now why Dean hadn't finished him yet. He still saw his little brother when he looked at Sam, not the blood-drinker who'd released Lucifer from hell.

Dean still loved that other Sam. If Dean had to kill him, he'd carry the pain of it forever. It would destroy him.

SUPNSUPNSUPN

Sam hissed a warning, nodding to the door. The crime scene tape had been broken; the door stood open.

Dean raised his shotgun, nodded.

Sam kicked the door open the rest of the way and rushed in, moving to the side, gun ready. Dean covered him from behind.

The house was dark, dusty and as silent as the proverbial grave. The brothers stuck together as they went through it, searching for whoever had broken in.

The downstairs was empty, but the upstairs showed signs of recent habitation. A few pieces of worn clothing, a pocket watch with a broken face . . .


	5. Chapter 5

Sam picked up the pocket watch. "You said the bodies were cremated?"

Dean nodded. "So?"

"So maybe they're tied to this."

"Could be." Dean shrugged. "Hell, could be anything. Let's check out the basement. That's where they found the kids."

Sam dropped the watch into his jacket pocket and followed Dean back downstairs.

The door to the basement was in the kitchen. When they opened the door, a cold breeze swept over them.

Sam shivered. "Shit. This is it."

Dean flipped on the light switch and started down, Sam close behind him on the narrow stairs.

Halfway down, Dean froze.

SUPNSUPNSUPN

"What?" Sam followed Dean's gaze. "Oh, _no_."

Two bodies lay at the foot of the steps; teenagers, a boy and a girl, bleeding and broken, eyes open wide and staring.

"Heads up, Sam!" Dean's eyes quickly tracked what he could see of the basement. "You see anything?"

"No." His eyes caught a slight movement and he looked to the left to see the teens, no, _not_ the teens, shit, the bodies were gone and their freaking _spirits_ were standing sentry in the corner of the room. "Dean, over there!"

Dean swore, finger lightly resting on the trigger of his shotgun.

SUPNSUPNSUPN

"What the hell!" Dean stared at the teen spirits. "That's the kids killed two weeks ago. So, what, they're killed and immediately start haunting?"

Sam was uneasy. Something about this felt very wrong.

Another movement in the shadows.

The Winchesters swung their weapons 'round to face another body, lying in the opposite side of the room.

It was an older man. Clothes torn, bloody, face gaping with terror, his head was twisted so far around, it seemed to dangle from the neck.

The corpse faded as they stared. A moment later its shade appeared in another corner of the room.


	6. Chapter 6

"Sam," Dean said quietly. "Back upstairs."

Keeping track of the silent spectres below, Sam started up, then stopped, eyes going wide, shotgun ready. "Dean!"

Dean flicked a glance over his shoulder, half-turned to face the new threat.

A figure stood at the top of the stairs in the doorway. His face was in shadow. All they could see was the white slash of his grin.

They faced each other for a moment.

Then with a chuckle the man stepped back into the kitchen, shutting the door. There was a loud click as he locked the door.

The lights went out.

SUPNSUPNSUPN

Sam fumbled for his flashlight, got his turned on just as Dean's flashed on. Both beams flashed down to the floor of the basement.

The spirits were gone.

"What the _hell_?"

"Take it easy," Dean said, moving cautiously down the steps. He shone his light around, found a light switch and flicked it on.

Light.

Sam breathed a sigh of relief.

"Whoever the bastard is, we've got shotguns and salt," Dean said coolly. "That means human or spirit, we're gonna kick his ass." He turned to look up at his brother and his face twisted in alarm. "Sammy, look out!"

SUPNSUPNSUPN

Too late.

Something struck a sharp, heavy blow to the middle of Sam's back and he fell forward with a startled cry.

Trying to catch himself, he dropped the shotgun and grabbed for the rail, but something swept his feet out from under him and he fell several feet through the air before hitting the stairs and crashing to the basement floor.

Horrified, Dean had time to do no more than get to the bottom of the steps before his brother landed at his feet.

Sam, face dead white except for a long, red gash on his forehead, was still.

oooooooooooooooooooo

Mea culpa. I love messed up Sam too much. Time for Dean to start remembering what's important. Idjit!


	7. Chapter 7

Dean put a hand on Sam's neck and heaved a sigh of relief when he felt the steady thrum of his brother's pulse. "Jesus, Sam. Gimme a freaking heart attack, man."

He ran his hands over Sam's body, checking for breaks. He found nothing obvious, but Sam gave a soft moan of pain under the pressure of his hands and stirred awake.

"Sammy?"

Sam's eyes blinked open, hazy, confused. "Wha – " He tried to rise but sank back, hissing in pain.

"Whoa, Sam, stay there." Dean pressed him back down. "Just take it easy. You took a pretty big fall."

SUPNSUPNSUPN

"What hurts?"

Sam felt a deep ache in his lower back, strains in his legs, his neck. A sharp pain in his head. He shook his head slightly, grimacing at the dizziness that produced. "I'm fine," he said, voice hoarse. "Help me up."

Dean looked at him doubtfully, but helped him up from the floor and steadied him when he swayed. "I don't know, you hit pretty hard."

Mouth a little pinched, Sam clenched his teeth. No time for him to wuss out. "I'm fine," he repeated. He swallowed and looked up at the top of the stairs. "Who pushed me?"

SUPNSUPNSUPN

"I don't know. It wasn't human. I've never seen anything like it before."

The pain in Sam's back ratcheted up another notch. He ignored it, focusing on Dean as he tried to describe what he'd seen.

"It was like a shadow, but - you know how a demon looks when it leaves its host? Like _that_, except it wasn't just black; it had pockets of color where it looked more solid."

Sam tried to smile, failed. "It felt pretty solid to me."

"Sammy, are you sure you're – "

The lights flickered. The Winchesters looked up as the basement door suddenly swung open.


	8. Chapter 8

"Is someone there?" It was a young girl's voice, sounding very small and frightened.

Dean's shotgun, which he'd raised to aim at the door the moment it opened, dropped to his side.

"Yes," he called up, careful to keep his voice gentle and nonthreatening. "My name is Dean. Me and my brother Sam are down here."

Silence from above.

"We're coming upstairs now," Dean said. "Don't be scared." He looked at his brother. "Can you make it up the stairs?"

Sam picked up his shotgun, hiding his wince when he bent over. "I'll be right behind you."

SUPNSUPNSUPN

The kitchen was empty when they came up out of the basement. No menacing stranger. No ominous black cloud. No spooks.

No little girl.

They made a sweep of the first floor and found nothing. When Sam started up to the second floor, Dean saw his brother's face whiten and grabbed his arm.

"Hold on."

"What?" Sam gestured up the stairs. "We need to find that girl. She shouldn't be here."

Dean shook his head. "You think I can't tell you're hurting? We need to get back to the motel, so I can check you out."

Sam pulled away. "She could get hurt!"

SUPNSUPNSUPN

Sam didn't understand what the hell Dean was worried about. What did it matter if Sam had a few bruises? Hell, what would it matter if Sam had worse than that? He deserved everything he got, and more.

Ignoring the now steadily pulsing pain in his back, he took hold of the balustrade and started up the stairs, choking back a hiss of pain when Dean grabbed him again, jerking him to a halt.

"Damn it, Sam, what the hell is wrong with you?" Dean snapped. "If you mess yourself up, what good are you gonna do her, or me?"


	9. Chapter 9

Sam looked away. "Can you – can you just go and check upstairs? I'll wait here."

Dean briefly considered hauling his stubborn brother out by the ear, then he huffed out an impatient breath and ran upstairs, checking every room, every closet. He even checked under the beds, 'cause he _knew_ freaking Sam would ask.

"Dean?"

Sam. With a note in his voice Dean didn't care for.

When he got to his brother, Sam was leaning heavily against the bannister. It was clearly the only thing keeping him on his feet.

White and shaking, Sam said, "Dean, I don't – something's wrong."

SUPNSUPNSUPN

Pam Gillespie looked at the clock on the wall and sighed. Five more hours on her shift. No one had come in all evening except for a very pregnant Sheila Bledsoe with another false alarm. Third time this week, the cow.

Nothing since then. Staying awake was getting a bit problematic.

She heard the E.R. doors swish open.

"Hey! Need some help here!"

Two young men, one supporting the other, were staggering inside. The dark-haired one, as if only waiting until they got inside to pass out, did so immediately.

"Sammy!"

Pam grabbed a stretcher and yelled for the doctor.

SUPNSUPNSUPN

The doctor studied the x-rays. "What the hell happened to Mr., um, Weinstein?"

"He took a fall down some stairs," Pam replied.

"Fell pretty damned hard," he commented. "Three broken ribs, concussion, sprained wrist, wrenched shoulder. Back looks okay, but the bruising is going to be pretty spectacular." He handed the x-rays off to Pam. "He awake yet?"

"No, Doctor."

"I don't like that. Well, he lucked out with the lungs, nothing punctured." He frowned. "Where's the brother?"

"In the waiting room, Doctor. He wasn't too happy about being separated."

"Well, let him in. Maybe that'll wake our man up."


	10. Chapter 10

Pam bustled into Sam's room, herding Dean along in front of her.

"Like the doctor said, your brother is going to be fine. It was a nasty fall, but nothing life-threatening." Pam touched the I.V. line running into the back of Sam's hand, ran a check on his vitals.

"It would be good if he woke up, though. Being unconscious due to injuries is never good when it goes on too long." She frowned at Dean, standing silently next to the bed. "You could talk to him; that might help."

Dean nodded. His eyes dropped to his brother's unconscious form.

SUPNSUPNSUPN

Dean pulled a chair to the side of the bed and sat down, dropping his face into his hands with a sigh.

The sight of his brother in a hospital bed is something he's never gotten used to. It's a disturbing reminder of his little brother's mortality. A reminder of the hellish night Sam hadn't survived.

A night he himself hadn't survived; at least, not for long.

He looked at Sam, who showed no signs of waking.

Talk, the nurse had said. Talk.

What the fuck could he say to him?

How the _hell_ had things gotten so messed up?

SUPNSUPNSUPN

Sam dragged himself back to consciousness.

He didn't really want to. It felt good, drifting. No one yelling at him. No one disappointed in him. Just soft, warm _safe_ oblivion.

Thing was – someone kept talking at him, keeping him from sinking.

On and on.

_Talking_.

He couldn't even understand what they were saying, just knew they wouldn't shut up.

He pried his eyes open and stared blearily up at the ceiling.

"Sam?"

With a great effort, he turned his head to the side.

Dean.

"Sammy, you okay?"

Tears stung the back of Sam's eyes, then spilled over.

_God_.

Still alive.


	11. Chapter 11

"Sam?"

Sam wiped away the wash of tears, drawing in a sharp breath at the answering ache in his shoulder. He stared around the room at the too-familiar hospital accoutrements, then looked back at his brother. "Why – "

"Concussion, sprained wrist, wrenched shoulder, three broken ribs and a shitload of bruises," Dean answered. "Almost broke your damned neck."

"Why did you bring me here?" Sam tried to sit up, face whitening even more at the pain in his ribs, the pounding in his skull. "I'm fine."

Dean put a hand on Sam's shoulder, withdrew it slowly when Sam flinched away.

SUPNSUPNSUPN

Pam came into the room. "Oh, you're awake." She nodded approvingly at Dean. "I knew you talking to him would help."

She came between the two brothers – Sam sinking back onto his pillow, Dean standing frozen, staring wide-eyed at him – and brought out a thermometer. "Lay still, sweetie."

She stuck the thermometer into Sam's mouth, waited until it beeped and frowned when she read the results. "You're a little warm. Well, we'll keep an eye on it and if it goes up, the doctor will prescribe something for you."

"I'm not staying," Sam said tightly. "Dean, get me my clothes."

SUPNSUPNSUPN

"Oh, but you can't leave!" Pam exclaimed in dismay. "You need to rest, let your body heal. At least tonight –"

Sam sat up, ignoring the snarl of pain from his ribs. "I'm not staying," he repeated. "I'm signing out AMA. Get the doctor."

"But –"

"Get him, please."

Pam hastily left the room and Sam stood, moving slowly.

"You sure about this?" Dean asked. "You look like hell. You could stay here tonight, then we can hole up at the motel -"

Sam swayed, grabbed onto his brother's arm. "This ends _today_," he said desperately. "One way or another."


	12. Chapter 12

Fifteen minutes later they were in the Impala.

"Keep driving," Sam said as they neared the motel.

"Where?"

"Doesn't matter. I don't want to be cooped up. Just drive."

As they drove, they passed a couple of parks. Dean raised a questioning eyebrow, but Sam shook his head and they continued on out of town until they reached a stretch of road where there were no houses, no barns - no signs of human habitation.

After a while they spotted a small lake far off to the side, a dirt road leading out to it.

"There," Sam said, voice muted.

SUPNSUPNSUPN

Dean made the turn onto the bumpy dirt road, slowing down some to save the Impala's undercarriage.

He flicked a glance over to his brother, but Sam stayed silent, eyes intent on the lake as it came closer, much bigger than it had appeared from the road.

Dean parked next to the water. Content, for now, to let Sam take the lead, he watched him ease out of the car and pace over to a copse of trees, leaning against one and lowering himself to the leaf-soft ground.

After a minute, Dean followed, crouched down next to him and waited.

SUPNSUPNSUPN

Sam rested against the tree and listened to the sound of the birds going about their business in the branches above him. Life goes on, he thought wearily. Life goes on.

His entire body ached but it felt far away. Whether that was due to the effect of the painkillers the hospital had given him, or the knowledge that it would be over soon, he didn't know. It didn't matter. He was grateful for the respite.

Dean shifted his weight.

Sighing, Sam gazed into his brother's face for what he knew would be the last time.

"Okay, Dean. I'm ready."


	13. Chapter 13

"Good." Dean stood up, relieved. "Come on, we'll go back to the motel."

"No, I want to stay here. I told you, I want it to be outside." Turning away, Sam stared out at the lake, smiled slightly when he saw several ducks squabbling and feeding. He watched them for a few minutes, preoccupied.

After a time, he said, "Dean, I told you, it's okay. What are you waiting for?"

"What am I supposed to be doing?"

Sam searched Dean's face and his heart sank. Disappointment flooded through him, bitter and overwhelming. "You're going to make me wait, aren't you?"

SUPNSUPNSUPN

Disappointment flared into rage. "Dean, I can't do this anymore. You have to do it. You have to do it _now_!"

Dean dropped to his knees beside his brother. "I don't know what you want me to do, just _tell_ me –"

"Shit! Stop playing with me. Just fucking _do_ it!" He gulped, hands digging into the ground, fighting for control.

"Jesus, Sam." Dean worriedly clasped Sam's arm. "Breathe through it, kiddo. Just breathe through it."

"_Damn_ it!" Furious, Sam knocked Dean's hand away. "Fine! Just - _fine_. Freaking leave me a gun and get the hell out of here!"

SUPNSUPNSUPN

Dean lurched up and backed away, eyes widening. "_What_?"

"I only waited because Dad told you to do it!" Sam pushed himself to his feet and stood swaying, facing his bewildered brother. "And you _said_ you'd do it, you bastard!"

"Dad? What – " It clicked into place then and the breath left Dean's lungs in a ragged whoosh. "Sam_, no_."

Sam pushed past him and staggered to the car. Opening the back door, he pulled out his duffel bag and rooted through it, Dean watching with dazed eyes.

With a sob of relief, Sam pulled out his pistol.

_Monster_.

_Now_.


	14. Chapter 14

"Good-bye, Dean." Sam raised the gun to his head.

"Sammy_, no_!"

Dean threw himself at his brother, striking the gun from his hand and slamming him hard against the car. Unable to catch himself, Sam's head hit the Impala with a heavy thud. He slid down the side and sprawled unconscious on the ground.

"Sam!"

Petrified, Dean threw himself down beside him and put a shaking hand on the side of Sam's neck. When he felt the ragged pulse, he closed his eyes and slumped down beside him, body quivering violently with reaction and relief.

SUPNSUPNSUPN

Thankful they hadn't given up their room at the motel, Dean maneuvered his brother out of the Impala. Only half-conscious, Sam tried to push him away but Dean, the memory of a hard cry on his face, ignored that and supported him gently inside.

He laid Sam on the bed and pulled off his boots and clothing, cursing inwardly at the fresh bruising that decorated his body, and the fever that was slowly but steadily rising. Then, ignoring Sam's mumbled protests and weak struggles, he forced some meds down his throat and sat beside him, watching as he fell asleep.

SUPNSUPNSUPN

Sam had no anger left in him. He had nothing.

Nothing but pain, remorse, and a self-loathing so strong he could barely remember how to breathe.

Once he was past the worst of the fever, he swallowed whatever Dean gave him, accepted his help in getting back and forth to the bathroom and listened dully to the drone of the television until it lulled him back to sleep.

He waited.

On the fourth morning, Dean sat down on the bed next to him and waited patiently until Sam's eyes reluctantly met his.

"Brother," Dean said quietly. "We need to talk."


	15. Chapter 15

"When you put that gun to your head, it was the worst moment of my life. Worse than when Mom died. Worse than Dad – " Dean stopped, voice husky. "I told you, Sam, no matter what. I _will_ save you."

"Screw what Dad said. Screw what that yellow-eyed bastard had planned for you. And screw what happened with Lilith."

Sam flinched and tried to look away, but Dean grabbed Sam's face and forced eye contact, making sure his brother got it. "This whole shit storm is just as much my fault as it is yours. _I_ broke the first seal."

SUPNSUPNSUPN

"No, Dean, _no_, you didn't know – "

"Neither did you," Dean said flatly. "Come on, Sammy, if you'd known killing Lilith would free Lucifer, would you still have done it? Even for revenge after what she did to me?"

Sam's lips trembled but after a long moment, he shook his head mutely.

"Sam, once and for all - you're _not_ evil! You made some shit choices, yeah, not gonna fight you on that, but maybe if I hadn't spent so much time beatin' you down, Ruby wouldn't have been able to con you into popping Satan out of his box!"

SUPNSUPNSUPN

"The only thing I can't figure," Dean said, pain creeping into his voice. "Is why you thought I'd kill you. Why you thought you had to do it when I wouldn't."

Heat rushed into Sam's face. He shook his head.

"You're my brother," Dean said pleadingly. "You and me, we're all we have left. What the hell did I do to make you think that all you've got left is a bullet?"

Involuntarily, Sam looked over at his cell phone, sitting on the bedside table, then quickly tore his eyes away.

Dean followed Sam's gaze. He picked up the phone.


	16. Chapter 16

Sam was confused.

Why didn't Dean remember what he'd said on the night Sam had killed Lilith?

Dean's words – the message on Sam's voicemail - were burned into his brain. He could remember them verbatim, along with the rage and hatred infused in his brother's voice.

That voicemail hadn't been something you could forget.

Unless – maybe Dean'd been drunk. He'd had reason to drink, with what Sam had done.

If so, Dean didn't need to hear the message. It would only hurt him and it had been what Sam deserved, after all.

Alcohol had a way of bringing out the truth.

SUPNSUPNSUPN

Sam sat up, whitening at the pain in his still-healing ribs. "Dean, there's nothing - what I said, I swear, you didn't have anything to do with it. I – I just hadn't been sleeping. I'm okay now. We can forget it. In a couple days we'll go back to that house, take care of whatever's there."

Dean had been reading Sam since the day he was born.

Looking at his little brother now, he could see the lie clearly. The truth lay in the phone.

He looked down at the cell and clicked on the message button.

One saved message.

SUPNSUPNSUPN

Dean pressed play.

_Listen to me, you bloodsucking freak_

Dean's mouth fell open and he stared at Sam in shock.

_Dad always said I'd either have to save you or kill you. _

No! This isn't what I said!

_Well, I'm giving you fair warning. I'm done trying to save you. _

Oh, God. Sam.

_You're a monster, Sam - a vampire. You're not you anymore. And there's no going back._

The message ended.

Hands shaking, Dean lowered the cell.

This - _he_ - had driven his baby brother to try to _kill_ himself.

"Sam, I swear, I _never_ – " he stopped.

"_Zachariah_."


	17. Chapter 17

"What?" Sam asked.

"That mother_fucking _Zachariah!" Dean said. His hand tightened on the cell phone and it crunched, bits of plastic crumbling away and dropping to the floor. "I swear to fucking _God_ I am going to _kill_ that _fucking_ angel!" With a ferocious heave, he threw the remains of the phone against the wall and it shattered.

Brain on fire, raging, he paced back and forth across the room. If Sam had gotten his real message, Dean might have been able to get to him before it was too late! Sam might not have killed Lilith!

Goddamned fucking angels!

SUPNSUPNSUPN

Dean looked over at Sam and his rage cooled a bit at the panicky look on his brother's face. Taking a firm grip on his temper, he went over and sat down on the bed beside him.

"Sam, that voicemail – " Dean's lips thinned and he took a breath. "That wasn't the message I left."

Confusion roiled in Sam's dark eyes. "I don't understand."

"The message _I_ left – I said we were still brothers, no matter what. I said we'd work it out."

Color flooded into Sam's face, then washed out, leaving him white and shaking. "It – it wasn't you?"

SUPNSUPNSUPN

"It wasn't. I swear. The angels messed with it. The pricks were afraid I'd stop you killing Lilith." Dean touched his brother's shoulder. "Sammy, I never said that shit."

Sam rubbed his aching temples. "I wanted you to stop me," he said agitatedly. "It felt wrong. At the end, it all felt wrong. I wanted to talk with you. I needed – but when I got that voicemail, it felt like I didn't have anything left."

He shuddered, remembering, then looked remorsefully at Dean. "It doesn't change anything. I let Lucifer out of his cage. I have to pay for that."

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What, you thought because they found out the truth, it would all get better? Well, yeah, okay, soon - just not yet!


	18. Chapter 18

Fear clutched at Dean's throat at Sam's words. He knew by the look on his brother's face that he meant what he said. He wasn't just looking for pity and expecting Dean to talk him out of it, to tell him that everything would be all right.

Sam wanted Dean to end him.

And if Dean wouldn't do it, he'd do it himself.

Dean knew his little brother. He could talk himself blue in the face; Sam would still believe that it was his duty to die for his crime, his sin.

Sam had always been a stubborn little bastard.

SUPNSUPNSUPN

There was one chance.

"So you want to leave me here alone? The way I left you?" Dean said sadly.

Sam's gaze jerked back to Dean, startled.

"You're going to let me fight Lucifer on my own?" Dean walked to the window, letting his shoulders slump. Pretending to look out the window, he watched his brother's reflection.

"Dean," Sam said slowly. "After what I did – you still want me to stay with you? To hunt with you?"

"I need you, Sammy."

Sam stared at Dean as if he were insane. "It's my fault Mom's dead! Dad. Jessica. All of it!"

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Dean faced him. "So you wanted Yellow-Eyes to feed you blood when you were a baby?"

"Dean – "

"You wanted him to kill our parents? Jessica?"

Sam flushed angrily. "You know I didn't."

"Oh, then, you knew Ruby was lying her ass off? You _let_ her trick you into freeing Lucifer?"

"Dean, that's got nothing to do with it!"

"It's got everything to do with it, Sam," Dean said flatly. "We were pawns in those fucking bastards' game. We did the best we could, but we screwed up. I need you to help me clean up our mess."


	19. Chapter 19

EPILOGUE

Dean needed him.

That was all Sam had to know.

He would stay.

He would stay because dying would be taking the easy way out. And because death was more than he deserved, no matter how much he wanted it.

Dean saying it was their responsibility? _Their_ mess?

Bullshit.

Dean had broken the first seal after thirty years of horrific, bestial torture. If that wasn't a valid excuse, nothing was.

Sam letting Lucifer out of the cage?

Sheer stupidity.

Base betrayal.

Sam would make sure his brother got out of this alive.

And he would find a way to atone.

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Dean could tell by the timbre of Sam's breathing that his brother wasn't asleep. But at least he was resting. He was alive.

He'd persuaded Sam to stay with him. For now, that would have to be enough.

After all, odds were neither of them would make it out of this alive anyway.

Alone against Lucifer and every demon in hell? Against the angels and their self-righteousness?

Yeah, they were toast.

To hell with it. _Screw_ 'em, everyone that had dragged the Winchesters into their lying little passion play, including God.

When they went out, they'd go together.

As brothers.

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_Four days later . . . _

The Winchester brothers – locked, loaded and ready to kick supernatural ass - stared up challengingly at the windows of the haunted house.

Whatever was inside – ghost, demon, witch, shifter - nothing dared to look back at them.

On the front porch, Sam pulled out his lock pick. "I got it."

"Hold on." Dean laid a questioning hand on his shoulder. "Sure you're up for this? Ribs okay?"

"Yeah, Dean. I'm good." Sam smiled at his brother. "We got work to do, right?"

Dean grinned back at him. "Damn straight we do, Sammy. Damn straight."

END

I am dedicating "Penance" to a friend of mine, Brenda Rozema, who passed a few days ago. Brenda was a good woman with a sweet nature and a loving heart. Generous to a fault. A brilliantly talented artist. And nowhere near done living her life. We'll miss you, Brenda. Be happy.


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